Aftermath
by WWSmith
Summary: What we didn't see at the end of "Last of the Time Lords".


Aftermath

It was foolish to think he could save everyone. Ever since he was small, he had tried. His parents had often admonished him for it – rooting through gardens to find beetles, bringing home stray house animals, looking on with horror whenever someone smashed a spider. "You can't save the butterfly and the spider," a friend had said to him once. "Either the butterfly lives or the spider starves!" And despite all his intelligence and outward understanding of the argument, he had never accepted it.

If he did, he reasoned, he would just give up and walk away. Millions upon millions would perish, predator and prey alike. How many times had he saved the universe already? How many more times would he need to? What would happen if he locked himself in his room and never left?

What would happen indeed?

At this moment, he was perfectly willing to find the answer to that question. The Doctor was in his room, curled up in the corner of his bed, staring at the wall and chasing his the demons of his mind around in circles. Three days had passed since the last encounter with the Master. At first, he had been disconsolate and angry and betrayed. It must have been strange to them, he thought, to see him that way. He knew they didn't understand. How could they? How could he even begin to explain the complicated and strange relationship he and the Master shared? Time Lord relationships existed on several levels that humans could not conceive of – it was a side effect of their extra senses and psychic abilities. Besides, what passed between him and the Master was intricate even by Gallifreyian standards. They both knew each other completely and yet neither one could convince the other to be what they thought they should be. It had twisted their relationship until they became enemies of sorts, even though the Doctor never thought of the Master in those terms. Deep down, he hoped the same had been true of his friend.

The Doctor had never thought the Master would kill himself, but he hadn't factored in how desperate the Master could be when cornered. He had killed himself, and left the Doctor terribly alone, just to snatch a clean victory away. Like always, there was no one to talk to. And, like always, the Doctor dealt with his pain alone. He let Jack help him move the body, but had sent the captain away after that. Jack had protested at first, but the Doctor insisted on completing the task alone.

The Doctor spent the rest of the day building the pyre that would become the Master's grave. Left to his own devices, he took out his anger and frustration on the otherwise innocent trees. The work was hard. It was a task much more suited to the bulk and strength of his previous body, but the Doctor was dimly glad that he was not that person even as he struggled under the weight of the wood. His ninth persona was physically stronger, but this mind was better with emotional trouble. It had to be. With no one to see, the Doctor gave voice to what he felt. He cried and screamed and threw terrible accusations at the body of his friend until his voice gave out and there was no strength left in him. By the time he set fire to the construction, he didn't feel any better, but at least now he didn't feel anything at all. He'd gone back to the TARDIS, locked himself in his room and gone to bed.

* * *

That was three days ago.

Jack had come to see him the morning after the Master's death. He had refused to budge despite all of the captain's tricks and jokes. He seemed so distant, so small and insignificant. He was just another person who got run over by being close to him. Once it was clear he wasn't going to respond, the captain made his excuses and left. They stood outside the door, whispering in the vain hope that the Doctor wouldn't overhear.

"I don't know what to do, Jack. He just lies there all day. He won't talk, he won't move. I can't even get him to look at me!"

"Give him time, Martha. He'll come around."

"But what if he doesn't? I've never seen him like this. He always jumps back up and keeps going. This isn't like him at all."

"Martha, think about it. The Master was his friend once and now he's the only Time Lord left. That's gotta be tough." Martha scoffed.

"I don't understand how someone like the Doctor could be friends with that bastard."

* * *

That was two days ago. The Doctor was still there, still numb, still letting the rest of the universe wander by. It was only there to hurt him anyway. To hell with it. He was staying here were it was safe.

The door flew open. Martha strode in like an angry mother and yanked the covers of the bed. Jack stood in the doorway, watching the proceedings.

"Alright, mister. Time to get up." She bundled up the blankets and threw them on the floor. "No more moping. Up you come." The Doctor refused to move. He just kept staring at the wall, lost in his emptiness.

"Come on, Doctor." Jack said encouragingly. "Lots of good stuff in the world today."

"Leave me alone." The Doctor said without emotion. For a moment, both companion and captain were thrown by the first words they had heard out of the Doctor in days. Martha recovered first.

"Nope." She put a hand on his shoulder. "You're rejoining the universe."

"Don't touch me." The Doctor said in the same lifeless tone. Martha looked at Jack, who shrugged. She removed her hand.

"Doctor," Jack began, "you can't stay here forever."

"Go away."

"No." Martha insisted. "Doctor, there people who care about you out there. They're worried. I'm worried. Please get up." Something in her voice reached through the numbness. He could feel his hearts begin to come back from their dead state, but not to anywhere good. Martha went on, talking about their adventures and how he saved everyone and how they really wanted him to come back and this god-awful dinner her Mum wanted to make for him. He let the words sink into him.

_They care._ He thought. _They care about me. After everything I've done, they still want me around._ This thought encouraged him, but only long enough for the darker side of him to point out they didn't know half of the things he had done. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be loved and comforted and wanted. The universe itself taught him that lesson every time he found someone to be happy with. Slowly, their faces began to flash before him. He saw each one at the moment of destruction, just as they fell away from him. Just as he realized he had failed again. The compounded moments broke his numbness and he began to cry.

It took Martha a moment to notice. She had gotten rather involved in her monologue, and it was only when she saw the bunching of his shoulders and the shaking of his body did she realize what she had done.

"Oh, Doctor, don't cry." She reached around him. "Please. It's alright, it'll be alright." Jack only watched. He had no idea what to say and was starting to think that no one did. The happiest he'd ever seen the Doctor was after he had first met him. He'd been grinning ear-to-ear and shouting about everyone living, high on success. In his mind, Jack contrasted it with the image before him. Different body, different personality, but the same soul. Same old Doctor who had to save everyone. Was this who he really was deep down? Someone so committed to saving everyone that losing one person could reduce him to this? It was the most pathetic thing Jack had ever heard.

_And the saddest._ He thought. _And the stupidest._

"Doctor," Martha tried, though it was clear by her voice she too would be crying soon, "please. Think of all the good you've done. This was one mistake. There wasn't anything you could have done."

_Is that why you're always apologizing?_ Jack asked in his mind. _Because you feel so guilty?_

"It's not all bad. There are good things." Martha said, getting desperate. "Like Rose. Remember Rose? She'd want you to be happy." _Please._ Martha begged. _Please, stop crying._ Unfortunately, the Doctor did remember her. He remembered her standing on the beach. He remembered her telling him she loved him. He remembered her disappearing in to the darkness before he could return that love. The theater of his mind grew darker and crueler. On the outside, he only cried harder.

"Doctor?" Martha asked. "Doctor, please talk to me. What can I do?" Jack decided this had gone far enough. He walked over and put his hand over the Doctor's nose. After a few seconds, the Time Lord closed his eyes and the tension went out of his body. Martha looked up at the captain.

"What did you do?"

"Put him to sleep."

"What?"

"Fifty-first century Time Agent trick. He'll sleep until this round of depression's run its course. I'm kinda surprised it worked on him actually." He reached over to Martha. "Come on, leave him alone." Martha shook her head.

"I'm staying here." She took the Doctor's hand and held it. He could see her medical experience in the way she did it, but he had also been around long enough to know it was not just a physician's instinct that prompted her.

"Martha," Jack said carefully, "he'll be fine." She shook her head again.

"No, he won't." She turned and looked up at him. "And you know it. He needs someone to take care of him. He's always saving everyone, but who's there to save him, Jack?"

"Martha…"

"No." She cut him off angrily. "He's carrying been all this by himself and it's killing him." Jack just looked at her.

"When he wakes up, he'll be back to normal."

"That won't solve anything. All of it's still going to be there. You can't just expect him to bury his feelings and keep going."

"Martha…"

"I'm not leaving him." Jack sighed. He was having enough fun keeping his own feelings in check without trying to reel in someone else as well.

"Martha, listen." She started to protest again, but he held up his hands. "No, hear me out. I know how you feel. You care about him. You see that he's hurting and want to help him. I get it. But you can't be that person for him; neither of us can. He's over nine hundred years old. He's seen and done things we can't even imagine. Do you really want to deal with a millennium's worth of baggage?" Martha broke eye contact. Jack leaned over the bed and stroked the Doctor's head gently. "Believe me, I understand." After a long moment, Martha nodded and got up.

"Let's go." Captain and companion left the room. In the dark and quiet they left behind, the Doctor dreamed of light and distant planets and coming home to a world and a friend he had lost long ago. When he woke, he was alone.


End file.
